


Unscripted Therapy

by CoelacanthKing



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoelacanthKing/pseuds/CoelacanthKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small acts of kindness add up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unscripted Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift to theshriekingsisterhood on Tumblr for the Big Gay Robot Christmas secret santa. Enjoy, my friend!

 

 

Whirl did not have a berth in his hab suite. Instead he had a bent and crooked piece of metal that, at one time, _had_ been a berth. The articulation of his legs and the weight of his chassis made recharge on a flat surface near impossible, if not unbearable, so instead he had beaten the berth given to him on the Lost Light until it vaguely resembled something akin to a roomy armchair.

Vaguely.

Today, like most days, he booted up angry and sore; his wrists sang with pain, and his back struts were taught and aching. And like most days, Whirl stood and stretched to his comfort level, then started on his way to Swerve's.

Whirl did not keep a normal recharge schedule (it was space, who could?) and sometimes he encountered more folks than not when he traversed the halls of the Lost Light. And like today they were all smart enough to give him the widest berth possible.

_I'm more than my body._

"Whirl! A moment of your time."

He was nearly to Swerve's, just about to turn the corner, when a voice from down the hall caught his attention. From the area of the habsuites came a stack of datapads, toted by the little skittish psychiatrist. _Wrang? Ring? Rung, that's his name._ The pile wobbled in his arms as he peered around it, looking more than a little flustered.

"So sorry, I hate to be a bother... But would you lend a hand to a bot in need?"

Noting that Rung didn't catch his Froidian Slip, Whirl was tempted to feign kindness only to knock the pads onto the floor. But because he was in pain and felt that it really would be easier to oblige, he stalked on over to Rung and took a clawful of pads off the top of the pile. With the weight lessened, Rung gave a sigh of relief and straightened, smiling up at him genuinely. "Ahh, thank you! I truly appreciate it."

"Whatever. What the hell is all this?" Whirl held the pads up in a way that seemed disdainful, but that was only because of the articulation of his claws. Rung adjusted the stack he held while giving his glasses a push up his nasal bridge.

"I've just visited Rewind and Chromedome, the former was giving me access to his database and the latter gave his insight. This is an accumulation of notes on the science and research of various cyber organs. For my records, of course. And a little light reading."

"Booooooring. I'd rather watch energon congeal."

"To each his own." Gazing down the corridor in the direction of the lifts, Rung frowned. "I have a proposition, Whirl. I can't possibly carry all of these datapads back down to my office by myself. If you'd come along and assist, I'd be more than happy to compensate you with highgrade. I know that you were on your way to Swerve's."

The light of Whirl's single optic narrowed suspiciously. "You're enabling me, foureyes? What's going on, this is pretty shady for you."

"Nothing shady at all. We'd merely be exchanging goods for services." Whirl squawked, an involuntary sound of humor bursting from his vocoder. Realizing how that must have sounded, Rung began to flounder.

"Ah! Wh-what I meant to say was that it would be an equal exchange of energy, or, if in fact.. Oh, I'm not making this any better..."

"Pit yeah, you're not." Chortling, Whirl took another two datapads off of Rung's stack. "You made me laugh, foureyes. That's worth carrying your dumb pads."

And so they went. The ones that they passed in the corridor stopped and openly started, marveling at the little psychiatrist and the unstable 'copter who stalked close behind. In the lift going down, Rung chattered about small things in his day to day life, and Whirl said nothing, uncommitted to the one-sided conversation. His back pain was steadily progressing, and now he was developing a crick in his ankle.

_I'm more than my body._

Finally, after passing the threshold into Rung's office, he couldn't take for another second. Dropping the datapads unceremoniously on the pristine desk, Whirl folded himself onto the therapy bench, head tucked between his legs, aching backstruts arched high.

"Whirl? Is something the matter?"

"Back off... It's nothing."

"It certainly doesn't seem like nothing. Are you in pain?"

"I said back off!" His charity of the solar year done, Whirl felt the frustration he did so well in bottling up start to soak into his day. Rung, possibly sensing that his guest needed space, backed to a safe corner of the room.

"I have inhibitors, Whirl. Ratchet allows me to keep some down here."

Whirl glowered at him. "I don't need a damn inhibitor. I need to go drink and forget about my damn problems."

"As you like." Things were moved about on Rung's desk, flipped over, and he came back around to stand beside Whirl. There was nearly uncomfortable moment of silence before Rung admitted, "I want you to know that I understand, Whirl. I understand about being different."

"What the hell do you know about being 'different'??" Voice harsh with static, Whirl's head jabbed dangerously at Rung. "You have no idea who I am! You don't know what I've gone through, what I'm still going through. I don't need some smarmy brain doctor telling me how I need to feel!"

_I am more than my body._

Rung seemed suitably humbled by Whirl's outburst, but he stood his ground, shoulders squared. "I understand ostricization. I understand solidarity. No mech is an island, and I would recommend you not isolate yourself because of your physical appearance," and with a smile that would have thawed the coldest of sparks, Rung concluded, "You are well-liked, Whirl."

"...I swear that you talk just to hear yourself yammer." _And because he has a mouth. Smug little rustmite._

"Not entirely a false assessment. Here," and Rung held out his hands to reveal a loaded shanix card and a pain inhibitor, "Our bargain. Take this in the lift so you'll be able to actually enjoy your drink. And I'll need that card back presently."

There was a lengthy silence before Whirl sullenly accepted the small tokens, tucking them into his subspace while mumbling, "You're weird, foureyes. Has anyone told you that lately?" Rung only smiled, patting Whirl's shoulder gently as the 'copter stood.

"Recently, no. Have a good time Whirl, and do take care of yourself. Your body is uniquely yours: you shouldn't let it suffer."

The little doctor's words stayed with him as he rode the lift back up, and Whirl worked the inhibitor between the tips of his claws, pensive. Finally, a floor or so before his stop, the cap was flicked off and the point inserted into the wiring in his elbow. Almost instantly the inhibitor started doing its magic, and Whirl would have sobbed if he had any proper optics. As was, he was more than alright with tucking the spent medicine container back in his subspace, then strutting to Swerve's while flashing the full shanix card and announcing that drinks would be on the jittery nerd downstairs.

Maybe today, unlike most days, wouldn't be _so_ terrible.


End file.
